


There's More to Life Than Just Surviving

by IShipMyFriendsSometimes



Category: DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Centaurs, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, Forest Guardian thing, Found Family, Im going to say that one a lot, Jason Todd needs a heater, Literally sobbing too much angst, M/M, Magic, Mental Breakdown, Merpeople, More tags to be added, Mystery, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Oops, Past Drug Use, Slow Build, Someone buy this man a heater, shit tons of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipMyFriendsSometimes/pseuds/IShipMyFriendsSometimes
Summary: Jason Todd has recently moved to Newberry, Maine. It's a cold and foggy place, a small town that feels like not enough room to think. As always with small towns, someone goes missing. Jason finds himself wrapped up in the mystery, making realizations and discoveries about himself in the process.That's when he finds himself knee deep in stuff he never even asked for. Well shit.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Jason Todd & Wally West, Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. Newberry, Maine

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Starting another story when literally all of mine are in progress? More likely than you think. This one just happens to be longer and I'm way more proud of it than anything else. So please be gentle with my precious creation.
> 
> Happy reading!

“Don't go into the forest,” Is the first thing Jason is told when he moves into his new house.

He moved all the way from Chicago to this tiny town in Maine. Well, all the towns are tiny, but Newberry is especially so.

From what Jason has seen so far, it's constantly foggy, rainy, and cold. It reminds him of a wet sock. Why anyone would want to live here, he has no idea.

He hadn't wanted to live here either until–

The noiret shakes his head. Those thoughts were better off forgotten now. He buries them deep down, in a place he would not be looking in anytime soon.

He's inherited this house from his mom who passed away. She was an avid drug user, caring about those more than she cared about him. And it showed. He's surprised he got out, worked hard in school despite getting C's, and became a lawyer for awhile. Then, when she finally passed and he inherited the house, he debated whether he even wanted to be a lawyer.

Was all that just to get away from her?

His father left when he was young, too young. Jason doesn't blame him. He wanted out of that family too.

Still, with a lack of a father and a deadbeat mother, it really shaped his life. He wouldn't be caught dead with drugs, and scorned people who used them. Those things can– and _have–_ ruined lives.

It isn't fair. But life isn't fair. He can't expect to just have everything handed to him and made for him, he has to work for it.

Speaking of work, when Jason moved, he quit his job as a lawyer and began working at a local bait and tackle shop. He's on way to the shop, owned by a middle-aged ex-military man by the name of John Stewart.

John seems serious and worn, his eyes sometimes far away from this place. They held a great sadness, likely from his military service. Jason often averts his gaze when John gets like that, not wanting to pick any wounds.

It had been quite a few weeks since he moved here, edging closer towards three months, and Jason is _absolutely miserable._ He doesn't make an effort to go out, and most of his time went into repairing the house. His mother didn't use the house at all and inherited from her parents. It had fallen into dilapidated hell in the absence of people.

Jason opens the door to the shop and steps inside.

“Good morning, John,” He greets, nodding towards the older man.

“Morning Todd,” John grunts, looking up from where he's sorting fishing hooks. Jason clocks into work before heading to the stockroom and checking the fish stock.

Not that a lot of people buy fish from them, but occasionally they get a crab or lobster rush. Lobster is Maine's thing after all. Even if Jason doesn't like it that all much.

He exits the stockroom, pushing with him some cans that need to be stacked on display. He stops at an empty plank of wood and begins stacking.

“Did you hear about the disappearance?” John asks, breaking the silence and looking up from his sorting.

“Disappearance?” Jason asks, stacking a few cans on top of each other.

“Some kid disappeared last night,” John explains, stopping his sorting for a minute, “His parents couldn't find him this morning. His sheets were messed up, and his window was open. Found a trail of footsteps.”

“Did they find him?” Jason asks, pausing his can stacking to peer up at his boss. “Or what happened to him?”

“No one knows,” John answers, his brown eyes looking tired and sad. “The trail of footsteps ended just before the woods. Some say he was kidnapped from home.”

“What do you think?” Jason inquires, not the first time he's heard of something mysterious happening in the woods.

“Honestly, I think the kid ran away. Wouldn't be the first time, and certainly not the last,” John shrugs, his gaze far away again.

Jason stays silent and goes back to stacking the cans. He wonders if the older man has some sort of experience with that, but opts not to ask. His own past is painful enough as is.

Still, it's been three months, and he's been nowhere near the woods. This wasn't like him. He likes danger and mystery. Besides, something about that story just seemed suspicious. How had _no one_ seen the little boy climb out the window?

Something is missing from this story. Something important. He makes a mental note to look into the disappearance when he gets home, opting to finish his shift first.

His mind wanders throughout his shift, and he thinks about the likelihood of being kidnapped from a window. It would depend on if it was first or second story, and if it was locked or not. Also, the child's familiarity with the kidnapper and various other factors.

That is, assuming he was kidnapped. He could have ran away, and Jason wouldn't fault him for that. He used to think about running away from his mom a lot too, finding a place to call his own without her. He never did, in the end, stealing things to keep them alive.

Wallets, phones, whatever he could find to make money. But that was another story. This kid's story was definitely interesting.

Eventually, the clock hits three o'clock, and Jason is allowed to clock out. He says bye to John, and heads out to the foggy Maine air.

Jason heads home to his ramshackled old house. The roof leaks and shingles are missing, but it's all he's got. It creaks at night and it feels like there's a ghost in there, but it is what it is.

It's also unbearably cold, the heating failing to work properly. He's supposed to have someone look at it on Wednesday, but after three months of cancelled appointments, he doubts it.

People always call his house haunted or cursed, not liking the way it's a little too drafty and a little too creaky. Sometimes random things fall. Jason is used to it at this point. The house is old, so the foundation is all sorts of messed up. That's probably why things keep falling.

Jason opens his squeaky door– cringing at the need for some WD40– and ventures into his living room.

Luckily the power works in the house, he has his laptop and phone charger along with a few other random things. The lights work, so he can't be too mad about the heating.

Jason flips on the lights and takes a seat at the worn sofa. This is his sofa, one that moved with him from Chicago. He couldn't bear the thought of sitting on his grandparents crusty sofa. Ew.

He pulls a blanket over his legs and picks up his laptop, opening it up gently. He's got research to do.

Jason settles into the couch, pulling the blanket up a little higher. Search terms... Search terms... _Boy went missing Newberry, Maine._ He presses enter and waits for the results to come in.

Oh. _Oh._ That's a lot of missing boys. And girls.

Well.

Looking at the results gave him a string of disappearances, ranging from 1996 to now. There didn't seem to be anything in common, however. Jason looks for the most recent one, scrolling through the results.

Damian al Ghul-Wayne, age fifteen. Honestly, Jason imagined he was younger. Maybe it was just the story that John told.

He clicks on the article, scrolling down past the "skin doctors are telling you not to eat this vegetable" ads and images of celebrities. Finally, he gets to what he's looking for.

> _Three days ago, at six A.M. Damian's single mother called in that her son was missing. Her father, who was also living with them, had said that he had seen Damian to bed that night at eight P.M. No one had checked in on him in the middle of the night. It is unknown what time he left, if he even left at all._
> 
> _Police say the window did not look forced open, signalling that if it was a kidnapper, it was someone the teen knew. It could also mean that the teen ran away._
> 
> _There is only one set footsteps, and a line that looks like something was dragged alongside them. The tracks disappear onto the pavement._
> 
> _Talia al Ghul has refused to comment._

Bingo. He could ask the family, but he would also run the risk of pissing them off. Usually, he wouldn't care, but this may be his only lead into whatever this mystery is. He's going to get to the bottom of it.

Interesting. So he likely ran away, and the tracks disappear as the pavement would not get marks. Still, it feels like there's something missing. What was being dragged? Why?

If the footprints were bigger, perhaps the teen was being dragged? Which would go back into kidnapping... He needs inside info. Something that isn't listed.

He has the whole afternoon off, and can see if he can go by the house and check out the forest. There has to be some kind of clues or something. Something they missed. The police are not the most competent people, after all.

Jason shifts on the couch, exiting that article and clicking on an older one. Stephanie Brown, missing about three years now. Similar story, but no window or drag marks. She just disappeared one day, and no one knew where she went.

Carrie Kelley. Last seen at a playground with a few friends. Hasn't been seen since.

What do these three have in common?

Damian al Ghul-Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Carrie Kelley. Two girls, aged 12 and 15 respectively, and Damian who is 15. Their ages are similar, when they were taken, but Stephanie is younger.

They all have different hair colors and are not the same gender... What else could possibly link them? Ages, gender, body composition, height? Were they they same height?

A quick Google search told him no. So what was he missing? What link could there possibly be?

They all went to different schools, according to what little information he could scrounge up, but there doesn't seem to be anything on their families. Maybe they all had like, similar parents. Something has to be linking them. There's no way this is random.

But _what?_ What is it? Why?

Jason huffs, turning sideways on the sofa to put his feet on the floor. He slides his laptop off of his lap and onto the worn leather of the couch. What could he possibly be missing?

If there's one thing he hates, it's information he needs but doesn't have. It frustrates him to no end, having that information be so close but so far. It's ridiculous. He should be able to figure out the link. There has to be a link.

There _has_ to.

Maybe he should take a break. Come back to this later. He's definitely hyper-focusing on these mysteries. It may be because he's always wanted to go into the woods but hasn't found an excuse to.

He checks his phone, swiping away some trash emails and app notifs. These are all pointless. Okay, so he needs to find something else to focus on. Something unrelated to the topic of the mysteries. Though he will be coming back to this later.

He briefly considers texting his college friends, most of them he doesn't talk to often anymore, but decides against it. Even though he hasn't talked to his closest friends in a few weeks, he'll be fine. It's only been... Four? Five...? weeks. Not that long.

He thinks back to college. Which wasn't all that long ago, only a year or two ago. Probably closer to two.

He spent time hanging out with them, drinking, clubbing, when he wasn't studying. He spotted them for things, helped them move, and he got nothing in return. He tries not to feel miserable or bitter, but it's hard. They probably _are_ just busy.

Jason ignores the ache of loneliness in his gut for favor of distracting himself from the distraction. He was kind of hungry, maybe he should eat something.

The noiret stands up from the couch and tracks his way into the kitchen. He opens his fridge, recoiling at the smell. Ew. Gross. The only things in it are half of an onion and some dried... Something.

He does have to eat though, and he did just get paid... So he can afford to eat out somewhere cheap.

A quick Google search tells him there's a relatively cheap cafe down the street. That's where he's going, then. To the cafe down the street.

His brain really does think in circles.

Jason closes the refrigerator and tucks his phone into his pocket, grabbing his leather jacket at the door. He slides it on over his usual black shirt and dark wash jeans. He runs a hand through his hair to make sure it didn't get too messy from his thinking and leaves the house.

Closing the door behind him, he sets off towards the direction of the cafe. Having no car really does make all the difference. It's no problem, just reminds him of college again. Which he's not thinking about. _They're busy,_ he tells himself, trying to think about something else.

It's still foggy, though not as bad as this morning. Mornings and evenings always tended to be foggier. They also tended to be colder. It wasn't anything like Chicago with the loud noises and the constant light pollution. It's quiet and eerie. He misses Chicago, but can't exactly go back after...

_That._

Oh look, there's the cafe.

Jason pushes open the door and ducks inside. He sees a few people scattered about, but the cafe is mostly empty. A few booth are full, and the majority of the tables are empty. The bar is completely empty, no one sitting at any of the stools.

A red head is standing behind the counter, grinning brightly at Jason when he walks in. Jason hasn't been here before, so he couldn't tell if that guy had worked there long or not. He had a feeling that guy was equivalent to him the in bait and tackle shop. Meaning that he isn't the manager but is one of the only employees.

“Hi, what can I get you?” He asks brightly, when Jason takes a seat at the counter. Ugh, almost too bright. Nasty.

“Coffee,” Jason replies shortly, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a seat at the counter. “Black. And one of those bacon wrap things.”

“You got it!” He grins, winking at Jason and leaving him to his thoughts. Jason wonders how anyone can smile that much without their cheeks hurting. It seems exhausting.

Speaking of Mr. Sunshine, he seems to be back with Jason's orders. Jason hands him a card, which he swipes and hands back to him.

“I don't think I've seen you around before,” He props his chin on his hand. “Tourist?”

“Ha!” Jason sneers, “I wouldn't be caught dead as a tourist here. Unfortunately, I live here. In that ghost house down the road.”

The redhead stands up, surprised. “You live there?” He asks, looking taken aback.

“Yeah, I know, cursed and haunted, yadda yadda yadda. I've heard it all before.”

“No, it's just,” He frowns, looking down at the counter. “When did you move in?”

“Close to three months now,” Jason answers, taking a sip of his coffee, “Why?” He hides his expression behind the lip of the cup.

“Coincidence much?” The ginger inquires, “I moved here around that time too. Except, people told me not to go there. Because of ghosts. As afraid as I was I did some snooping.”

“Did you find anything?” Jason asks, already knowing the answer. It is interesting they moved at the same time though. He wonders if that's a coincidence. A town this small didn't have room for this many coincidences.

“Nope,” He grins, popping the p. “Oh! Forgot to introduce myself. I'm Wally West, yeah I know it's a weird name. Thank my rude parents for that one,” He makes a face.

“Jason Todd,” Jason introduces, giving the excitable man a small smile and holding his hand out to shake. Wally takes his hand and gives him another smile.

How many smiles does this man have? That's honestly the biggest mystery here, Jason thinks. No one can be that happy. He's got to be hiding something. Secrets.

Ah, well, that wasn't Jason's place to judge. He has far too many of his own, after all.

Wally grabs a rag from under the countertop and starts wiping, probably due to the silence that fell over him. Jason opts to take a bite of his wrap and a sip of his coffee. He wipes his hands on a napkin.

”You're not the only one with rude parents,” Jason murmurs. Wally glances at him, wide eyed, but Jason isn't adding to that.

“Maybe someday I'll elaborate on that. But for now, I want to know what you know about the Damian al Ghul-Wayne kidnapping,” Jason changes the subject fairly quickly, wondering if the man has any input.

“I still, and will always say, that there were lizard men involved. Why else is there a drag mark along the footprints?” Wally snorts, putting the rag back under the countertop.

Jason looks around the cafe, which is mostly empty. There's only an old couple by the door.

“Normally, I would say you're wrong. I don't think it's lizard men. But I'm missing pieces of this mystery and I think someone in this town has them. I can't rule out any scenario until I see absolute proof.”

“Ah, a fellow conspiracy theorist,” Wally replies, standing back in front of him. “I like your style.”

“Do you know anyone that might have seen it happen or heard it?” Jason inquires, meeting the other's green eyes.

Wally thinks for a moment. “No... But there is an old gossip on Main Street. If you give me fifteen minutes I'll come with you. She knows _everything.”_

Jason gives it some thought. “I'm good. Just curious. Don't worry about it,” He waves him off, lying through his teeth. “Seriously, just speculating.” 

“Oh, okay. Let me know if you change your mind, yeah?” Wally asks, grinning once again and glancing to the door.

“Will do,” Jason replies, and Wally nods.

Jason is left alone with his coffee and sandwich. And his thoughts, which are infinitely more dangerous. He eats in silence, attempting to divert his thoughts with other things and observations. 

The café is empty now, everyone has finished eating and left. He's here by himself– with the exception of Wally, of course– but that doesn't bother him. He's used to being on his own, he thinks darkly.

He finishes eating and exits the store, saying a quick goodbye to Wally. It's time to see if he can dig anything up about the source of the mystery. The woods themselves.

He needs the cover of night though. There was no way he could do proper investigation in broad daylight. People would talk. Especially since he already lives in the haunted house. There's nothing to do now but wait.


	2. Wally West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason does a bit of investigation, a mysterious and non-mysterious visit occur.

When darkness falls, Jason knows that the atmosphere of Maine only gets colder. It's just how Maine operates. He dresses in a dark hoodie and sweatpants, shoving a flashlight and his phone into the pockets. He thinks about it and shoves a few more random things in there, some snacks, a bottle of water, and some rope. He doesn't know what he might find. He wants to be prepared.

Now looking like an edgy teenager, dressed in all black in a low effort sweatshirt and sweatpants look, he exits the house. Luckily Newberry is a small town, where walking everywhere doesn't suck as much as it could. He really does wish he had a car. A shiny black one, that'd be fun.

He traipses through the streets, making his way towards the forest. It wasn't far, only a fifteen minute walk that had his fingers going numb. He ignores the numbness in favor of scanning the woods, looking for something, anything of interest.

Nothing catches his eye, looking fairly boring. There's a rusted chain-link fence on the front, broken and busted. It barely qualifies as a fence anymore, from the amount of damage that's been done to it.

Jason wonders if he could go missing in the woods. He's never had any formal fighting training, but can hold his own with people on the streets. It's a positive side effect of growing up on the streets. Not that there were many of those.

He takes a tentative step towards the fence, watching the bushes warily. The trees rustle from the cool blast of wind, and he is once again reminded of the cool night. Maine isn't warm, no matter how you look at it.

Especially not in fall. The leaves crunch under his feet, and he slowly approaches the rusty fence. Good thing he's gotten a tetanus shot. Otherwise, well, he'd probably get it, judging from the bright orange color of the decaying fence.

He reaches the fence and puts his still cold but gloved hands on it and climbs it. The holes are in no certain order anymore, and he has to do some kind of skill to not cut himself on the wires. He makes it slowly over the fence.

Jason drops down on the other side, crunching the leaves loudly. He winces at the noise, hoping no one else is in the vicinity. Hopefully not. He needs to take a look at it.

The noiret flips on his flashlight, looking through the foliage and leaves. He doesn't see anything so close to the front. He needs to make his way further in.

He takes a few crunchy steps further in, peering around the woods. Distantly, he hears the sounds of animals. Some sleeping, some crunching, distant howling, but nothing close by. Which is good. He probably should've looked up if there were bears in Maine, but oh well. Too late now.

He heads deeper into the woods, following an overgrown path filled with roots and trees. The path is trippy– quite literally– Jason has to keep from falling on his many stumbles. Sticks and roots are often hidden beneath the leaves, making it easy to trip.

Jason hates nature. Well, that's not true. But, he's pretty damn upset with it. His thirst for the truth overpowers whatever disdain he may have for the mud-filled area. He needs to know. 

Any footsteps at this point would be gone. He's not exactly sure what he's looking for. Proof that someone can escape into the forest? Proof that the teen wasn't kidnapped?

Or was he doing it for himself?

As someone who had tried to run away from his home, his past, his ideas, his pain, he understands whatever this teen must've been going through very well. Maybe he's projecting.

In the silent night, with the stars up above, Jason looks up to them. For guidance. For substance. For something. Why was he doing this? A twenty seven year old man in the woods looking for a lost teen? Or a twenty seven year old man looking for _himself?_

Jason takes a seat on the ground slowly, staring up at the stars still, and feeling small and alone. No family of which to speak. His own mother left him. His father is gone. Friends from college... As much as he wants to believe they'll contact him, they're gone too. It's just him. Alone in the world.

A man with an empty heart.

He sits there for a long time, breathing in the fresh air of the forest, and realizing his loneliness. Had he ever confronted it before? He remembers pushing it aside to get away from his mother, his shitty broken home. He wanted out, out of the place that broke him.

Even in college, when he'd had friends, they weren't really close. They were there to drink with him, and there for lunch breaks, but did they ever really care? Was there anyone that did? Was there anyone that ever would?

Confronted with these truths in the dead of the night, in the middle of a forest hundreds of miles away from his former home, he did something he hasn't done in awhile. He cried.

Warm tears slowly roll down his face, and he pulls his knees to his chest. No one is here to hear them, to experience the tears and comfort him. But releasing them felt good somehow. Freeing him from the raw confines of his depression and exposing himself to the world.

He feels like he's opened all his wounds and all his pain. Letting himself bleed out. It's cathartic, sitting there in the middle of the woods. Sobbing. Letting himself go.

He's not sure how long he sits there, letting the warm tears roll down his face. It could be five minutes. It could be three hours. When he finally stops crying, he doesn't feel numb. He feels... Comforted. Not happy, but better.

He slowly stands up, feeling more tired than he realized. He stumbles a bit, before gaining his balance. He makes his way out of the woods, crunching lowly.

Eventually he makes his way home, entering the dilapidated house. He strips off his clothes and throws on his pajamas, turning off the lights and wrapping himself in blankets.

He's exhausted, and soon falls asleep.

* * *

“Hey,” A voice calls, from a man definitely younger than him. He's wearing gray pants and brown boots. His skin is pale, but vines snake over his skin like veins. It's both beautiful and terrifying, how they merge over his skin and connect together. He's sitting on a tree branch, a little bit above Jason. The dreamscape is covered in pink fluffy clouds, the tree randomly attached to them.

“Who're you?” Jason asks, suspiciously. He's not really sure why he's suspicious, but this dream feels a little too real. Something about it is off. Not necessarily bad… just off. Different.

“We've never met, don't worry,” The man smirks, and Jason raises an eyebrow.

“Care to elaborate then, what you're doing in my dream?”

“Calm down. Don't get your panties in a twist,” He says, and then makes a face. “Ew. I would never say that. I think my place in your brain is causing this osmosis effect.”

“You can always leave,” Jason replies snarkily. “The door is over... Somewhere. I'm sure you can get out if you got in.”

“This is true,” The man replies, shrugging. “Tim Drake.”

“Excuse me?” Jason asks, frowning.

“That's my name. Tim Drake. I figured it's only fair if I know yours,” He shrugs again, his shoulders barely missing his medium length black hair.

“How do you–” Jason starts.

“Brain,” Tim interrupts. Oh. Yeah. They were in his brain.

“Well, nice of you to visit, _Tim,”_ Jason spits, feeling rather threatened, for having guy randomly be in his dream. “Did you have a reason for coming?”

“Did I?” Tim asks back, acting like it's some kind of comeback. Jason gestures his hand as if to say, _get on with it._

“I did actually,” Tim admits, meeting Jason's eyes with his own. They're deep, filled with depth that Jason didn't expect. Wisdom and experience and pain that feels similar to his own. “You came to visit my forest today.”

“Your forest?” Jason queries, feeling like all he does anymore is ask questions. Why did this man show up in his dreams? What reason did he have to be here– assuming this wasn't his brain having a weird time. That could be it. It _is_ a dream.

“Well, technically not mine. Someone else's,” Tim admits, shrugging. “Anyways. I felt your pain and anguish and, well, loneliness. I felt all of your emotions, and I wanted to help. As sleep deprived as I am myself, staying up at night to hang out with the owls, I thought you could use the company.”

Jason feels his face heat in embarrassment. Someone had listened to him cry? _This is just a dream,_ he tells himself. Just a figment of imagination. He was alone out there.

“You just, _thought I could use the company?”_ Jason narrows his eyes. “What's the catch?”

“No catch,” Tim replies earnestly. “And, hey, I'm saving you from your usual nightmares. I borrowed something from Dick to do it, but he seemed happy to help after I explained...”

Jason laughs. “People are named Dick? Lemme guess, he's like fifty. He's probably crusty and has a boring office job. Definitely likes puns.”

Tim quirks a grin, “Not fifty. No office job. Crusty is debatable, but yes. He definitely likes puns.”

“Interesting,” Jason replies, humoring his dream creation. “Does he live in the forest too?”

Tim nods, “Mhhm! Of course he does. Everyone good lives in the forest.”

“Oh really?” Jason inquires, seeing what his brain can come up with. “Who else lives in this forest?”

He's honestly excited to push this dream as far as it goes. It's far cry from his usual nightmares. A lot more pleasant. Also a lot more fluffy. Maybe the universe decided he needed a break. _Thanks universe,_ he thinks in relief. Even if this dream was pretty random.

“Well, I told you about Dick, there's B who's like everyone's dad. Then there's Roy, who is best friends with Dick and more or less an adopted older brother. Dick is like my actual older brother. Then there's Cass who never speaks but she's the best little sister ever, and Luke who's very protective of us, and Duke–”

“Wow. A lot of you live in the forest then. Are you all... Forest people?” Jason interrupts gesturing to Tim's vines and outfit.

“I'm a faery, you dork,” He rolls his eyes. “And no.”

“Oh?” Jason asks, but Tim doesn't elaborate.

“Tell me about you,” Tim says, pulling up a tea table out of nowhere. He hops off the tree branch and moves to sit at it, pouring himself and Jason some tea.

Jason shrugs and rolls with it, sitting at the table.

“I don't know why you need me to tell you if you can read my mind,” Jason grumbles.

“Can't. I only learned your name because it's on the 'surface'. I can only look at whatever your thinking about it the information that's already present about you. I can't dig into your head or anything like that. It would require an immense amount of power,” Tim states matter-of-factly, drinking his tea haughtily.

“Whatever,” Jason dismisses. “But since you are a better dream than my usual nightmares, I'll let you stay.”

“Oh? Not because you like my company?” Tim teases, smirking.

“Not a chance,” Jason replies, feeling an easy smile reach his own face too.

“I should go, but it was nice talking to you. Next time I'll bring Dick, you'll definitely get along,” Tim grins. “Thanks for having tea with me.”

“Thanks for coming, forest man,” Jason replies, easy smirk on his face.

The dream dissolves, and Jason wakes up in his bed, feeling well rested for once. Maybe he should stop hyper-focusing on mysteries and try to make friends. If there's one thing he learned from the dream, it's that he's lonely enough to make up people.

Ew. That's gross. Today he's got no shifts, so he's free to do whatever he wants. Which means nothing.

Jason wonders if his life has always been this sad. Has anyone even understood him? Has anyone liked him? Does he even belong?

Seriously, he made up a person. Then had a tea party.

He sits up from the bed and runs a hand through his black hair. He honestly needs a shower more than anything. He looks out his window and into the cool morning air, wondering if anyone was even thinking about him. Probably not.

He turns to the side and slides off of the bed, trudging to the bathroom. When he gets to the bathroom, he makes sure the curtains are closed– why there's a window in the bathroom, he has no idea– and strips off his pajamas. His mind is definitely more awake than it was earlier, thinking about his dream.

The forest spirit– Fae? Faery?– man seemed talkative and innocent, kind of like a little brother that Jason never had. His brain was sure good at distracting him from nightmares with random things.

Jason steps into the shower and let's the water run over him. He runs his hands through his hair, washing himself, and thinking about yesterday. His disappointment at finding nothing in the forest. The realization of his loneliness. Sadness.

Then he cried on the forest floor until he felt empty, drained of all emotions. Numb. Alone.

Kind of embarrassing, actually. Crying in the middle of the woods in your late twenties. What the hell even are his life goals at this point? He's hit a new low.

Jason steps out of the shower, picking up a towel to dry himself off from the chill cool of the air. He heads back to his room, towelling off his hair quickly before wrapping himself in the towel again. Fuck, it's cold in the house. He really needs that heat to get fixed.

He enters his room, opening his dresser to put on some clothing. He throws on some jeans and a random shirt, pulling a red hoodie over it. He's never been a "fashionable" person, always throwing on whatever's clean. Or whatever's not. It depends on if he does laundry or not.

_Knock, knock._

Huh? No one ever knocks on his door... Like, ever. Everyone's afraid of the ghost house that was falling into a state of disrepair. Not that he'd ever seen any ghosts. That'd be kind of cool, actually.

Jason walks slowly towards the door, wondering who it could be. He reaches the big worn oak door and pulls it open, revealing none other than Wally from the café. He's standing there in his jeans and big sweater with a coat overtop, grinning like a big dog. 

“What are you doing here?” Jason blinks, taking in the man's appearance.

“Offering my company,” He shrugs, dropping his hands into his pockets. Jason continues to stare and Wally just grins wider. What a weird guy.

“Why did you think I wanted it?” Jason asks, arching an eyebrow, and the other shrugs.

“You just seemed lonely, I guess,” The redhead replies.

“I'm fine,” Jason defends, brushing the other off. “I'm not lonely at all.”

“You and I both know that's not true,” Wally crosses his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows at Jason. “I may not know you all that well, but this is a creepy ghost house without heating.”

“And?” Jason prompts, waiting for Wally to make his point.

 _“And,_ if you have friends– which I'm not saying you don't– I've never seen them near this house.”

“You watch me?” Jason furrows his brows, shifting his weight.

“It's hard not to wonder who lives in the _ghost house,”_ Wally counters, “Besides, you're the only one I've ever seen here.”

“So what?” Jason asks, placing a hand on his hip.

“So you're stuck with me,” Wally grins, pushing past him to drop onto his sofa.

Jason huffs, closing the door. He realizes he played right into Wally's prompting.

“So, are we solving the mystery?” The redhead asks, as Jason turns around.

Jason's still not really over him forcing his way into the house, he opts not to answer. Instead he makes his way to the chair next to the sofa and sits down on it, staring at the floor blankly.

“I don't know what you want from me,” Jason admits, turning his blue gaze from the floor to the other's green eyes.

He's not sure what the other gets out of this. There's no reason he should want to hang out with Jason. Besides ulterior motives, of course. But what would those be?

“I want to help,” Wally says, the words hanging heavy in the silence of the room. They burn themselves into his brain, twisting and repeating. Jason stares, Wally offering him a sheepish grin.

“...You want to help?” Jason questions, mostly in deadpan. Wally nods once, running a hand through his fluffy hair.

“Yes. We have to solve this mystery, once and for all!” He exclaims warmly, much like an action hero. It falls flat in the empty house, revealing to Jason how cold the house really is. How empty.

He knows he should say no. Not include random people that may or may not have ulterior motives. Still, Jason doubts his search will turn up anything. What does he have to lose?

Nothing. He has nothing to lose.

“Okay. You can help,” Jason voices his agreement, and Wally lets out an excited shout. He seems excited to help. Happy even. Jason doesn't understand it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who updated!!! YEAH!!! thank you for reading and i absolutely love comments ☺️🥰✨


End file.
